I’ll wait for you, she says; as he boards another plane, takes another trip, goes for another ride, lays his head down for the night. I’ll wait for you, she reminds him. She smiles as she does. She used to hate to wait, but she does so out of love.
He is a mover, always on the go. She admittedly moves much more slow. He is gone now, away again. Another trip, someplace beautiful. She is waiting, waking, working, writing, sleeping, breathing, and waiting some more. She sits for hours sometimes, waiting for a bleep of the phone.
How long she’ll wait, she cannot say. She may wait forever, or she may wait one more day. Either way, and however it may go, she will wait as long as her heart tells her so. Right now she is waiting, for a kiss goodnight. She is waiting for a “let’s snuggle in tight”. She is waiting for dreams to carry her away, so she can start the waiting over again, tomorrow day.